Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1887-07-13
q Serial Stnrp.
j E = =
BY H. RIDER HAGGARD,
AUTHOR OF 'sKINa soLoMoN's MINES,
''sHE," ETC, ETC. - :.

ID IO1DILxe 41hNo<AAs~S .
AUTHOR OF "K1Na soLoMoN's MINES, y
"sHE," ETC., ETC. 20 /.
CHAPTER XVI o
FRANK MULLER's FAMILIAR
The study of the conflicting elements that
60 tc make up acharacter like Frank Muller's,
however fascinating it might prove, is not one
that can be attampted in detail here. Such
character in its developed foitn is fortunately
practically impossible in highly civilized
country. The dead weight of the law would
crush it back to the level Of the human mass
around it. But those who have lived in the
wild places Of the earth will be acquainted
with its prototypes, more especially in those
places where handful of a superior race rules
over the dense thousands Of an inferior Soli-
tudes are favorable to the production Of
strongly marked individualities. The COM
panionship Of highly developed men, on the
contrary, whistles indiyid yidualities away, the
difference between their growth being the
difference between the growth Of tree on
plain and tree in the forest On the plain
the tee takes the innate bent Of its nature.
It springs in majesty toward the skies: it
spreads itself around or it slants along the
earth lust as nature intended that it should,
and in accordance with the power Of the
proyideutial breath that bends, it. In the
forest it is different There the tree grows
toward the light wherever the light may be.
Forced to modify its natural habit in obedi-
ence to the pressure Of circumstances over
which it has no control, it takes such form
and haiSsht as its neighbors will allow to it,
all its energies being directed to the preserva-
ton of life, in any shape and at any sacrifice.
Thus it is with US all. Left to ourselves, or
surrounded only by the scrub Of humanity,
we become outwardly that which the spirit
within would fashion us to, but placed among
our fellows, shackled by custom, restrained
by law, pruned and bent by the force Of pub
lie opinion, we grow as like one to another as
the fruit bushes on garden wall The sharp
angles Of our characters are fretted away by
the friction Of the crowd, and we become
round and polished, and specifically, at any
rate, Identical We no longer resemble a
solitary bowlder on e plain, but are as stone
built into the great edflce of civilized society.
The place Of man like Frank Muller IS at
the junction of the waters Of civilization and
barbarism. Too civilized to possess those
savage virtues which, such as they are, repre-
sent the quantum of innate good nature has
thought fit to allow in the mixture man, and
too barbarous to be subject to the tenderer
restraints of cultivated society, he is at once
strong in the strength Of both and weak in
their weaknesses Animated by the spirit OF
barbarism, superstition anG almost entirely
destitute Of the spirit Of civilization, mercy,
he stands on the edge Of both and an affront
to both, as terrific moral spectacle as the
world can afford.
Had he been little more civilized, with
his power Of evil trained by education and
cynical reflection to defy the attacks OF those
spasms of unreasoning spiritual terror and
understandable passion that have their natural
dwelling place in the raw, strong mind OF
uncultivated man, Frank Muller might have
broken upon the world as a Napoleon. Had
be been little more savage, a little further
removed from the unconscious but present
influence of progressive race, he might have
ground his fellows down and ruthlessly
destroyed them in the madness Of his rage
and lust, like an Attila or TChaka- AS it
was, he was buffeted between two forces he
did not realize, even when they swayed him,
and thus at every step in his path toward
supremacy Of evil an unseen power made
stumbling blocks Of weaknesses which, If that
path had been laid along little higher or
little lower level in the scale Of circumstance.
would themselves have been deadly weapons
Of overmastering force.
See him, as with his dark heart filled up
with fears, he thunders along from the scene
of midnight death and murder his brain had
not feared to plan and his hand to execute.
Onward his black horse strides, companioned
by the storm, like q dark thought travelling
on the %ingso Of Night. He does not believe
in any God, and yet the terrible fears that
spring up in his soul, born fungus like from
a dew Of blood, take shape and form, and
seem to cry aloud, awe are the messengers OF
the avenging God" He glances up. High
on the black bosom Of the storm the finger
of the lightning is writing that awful name,
and again and again the voice Of the thunder
reads it out aloud in spirit shaking accents.
He shuts his dazed eyes, and even the falling
rhythm of his horses hoofs beat out "There is
a God! there is God!" from the silent earth
on which they strike.
And so on through the tempest and the
night, flying from that which no man can
leave behind.
1t was near midnight when Frank Muller
drew rein at wretched mud hut perched by
itself on the banks of the Vaal, and flanked
ON its rear by an equally miserable shed. The
place was es silent as the grave; not even a
dog barked:
3If that beast of Kaffir is not here" he
said aloud, II will have him fiogged to death.
Hendrix! Hendrix"
As he called, form rose up at his very
feet, causing the weary horse to start back so
violently that he almost threw his rider to the
ground.
@What in the name of the devil are you"
almost shrieked Frank Muller, whose nerves,
indeed, were in no condition to stand fresh
shocks.
ut is me, baas," said the form, at the same
time throwing off gray blanket in which it
was enveloped, and revealing the villainous
countenance Of the one eyed witch doctor who
had taken the letter to Bessie, and who had
for years been Mullers body servant, and fol-
lowed him about like dog.
"Curse you, you dog What do you mean
by hiding up like that! It is one Of your in
fernal tricks; be careful"-tapping his pistol
case-"or shall one day put an end to you
and your witchcraft together"
II am very sorry, baas," said the man, in q
whine, 1but half an hour ago heard you
coming. l don't know what is the matter
with the air tonight, but it sounded as
though twenty people were galloping after
you. could hear them all quite clear; first
the big black horse, and then all those who
came after, just as though they were hunting
you; and SO came out and lay down to lis
ten, and it was not till you were quite close
that one by one the others stopped. Perhaps
it was the devils who galloped."
GCurse you, stop that wizards talk, said
Muller, his teeth chattering with fear and
agitation. "Take the horse and clean and
feed him well; he has galloped far, and we
start at dawn. Stop! tell me, where are the
lights and the brandy? If you have drunk
the brandy will fog YOU"
"They are OIL the shelf on the left as you
60 in, baas, and there is flesh there, too, and
bread"
Muller swung himself from the saddle and
entered the hut, pushing open the cranky,
broken hinged door with a kick. He found
the box of Tandstickor matches, and, after
one or two false shots-due chiefly to his shak-
ing hand-succeeded in getting fire and light
ing coarse dip such as the Beers make out
of mutton fat. Near the candle was bottle
of peach brandy two-thirds full, and tin
pannikin and jug Of river water. Selling